The new upstairs maid was impossible, fumed the Major. His afternoon tea had been an iron ritual among the staff: Oolong, one sugar, in the East Westfordshire Hunt Club china cup, 3:47 sharp. And here it was, four o’clock, and no tea.

Outside his window, the clatter of automobiles replaced the clip-clop of the surrey, while the grating strains of some infernal racket called “jazz” emanated from the parlor downstairs. Anarchy, that’s what it was — a world gone mad.

The clock in the hall finished chiming. Still no tea. His eyelids grew heavy. He would speak to Mrs. Grimby tomorrow about the gramophone, he resolved, yawning. Tomorrow would see matters put right, and all… all would be… be well…

If you’re still reading, Sarah S., thanks for the pictures, and sorry it took so long.

Brooklyn T. says, “Just a quick note to say your site is the bright spot in my day. Thank you for spreading the joy! My little guy’s name is Fellini and he is the absolute SWEETEST!” Thank you, Brooklyn, for the “sample of his squeezable face.”

This is a record store. We sell records. Records are how music should be heard, not the flat, tinny ultra-compressed CD-slash-MP3 so-called “music” you seem to have settled for. Know what we keep on CDs? Beverages. Good day, madam.

Kitt B., who found this at Zooborns, writes: “The chameleon is clinging to a toothpick! Hovering over a thimble!! With not only an adorable nose, but a look of Supreme Disapproval. It’s a twofer, how can you resist?” PHOTO CREDIT: EXMOOR ZOO

Are you getting the latest gadget for your loved ones, but concerned it might sap all their time? Then add DisapprovaCat™ to your gift list! DisapprovaCat hovers near any electronic devices, issuing a stern glower that says “Really? Another eight-hour gaming marathon? And it’s such a nice day, too!”